140 Days
by Handwritten
Summary: Namine has always been there for Roxas...so shouldn't he do the same? "Time heals all wounds - but what about the scars?" - Sometimes, a taste of popularity is all it takes to suck you in. Namixas oneshot.


**140 D_a_ys  
**_Roxas x Namine  
_~Handwritten

* * *

_"You're my best friend, Namine."_

Those were the words that had once left me flushed with happiness. Without a doubt, at the time, Roxas had been _my _best friend too.

_At the time._ Now...they were almost like a curse. They hovered over my conscience. Permanently carved into my mind. Like a ghastly face carved into a pumpkin. And just like the orange squash -- our friendship too would eventually rot.

The two of us met when we were **eleven**. In English, I had forgotten my favorite pencil on the day of a quiz. On my worst subject - _science_. Roxas lent me his "lucky" pencil -- and I ended up getting an _A_. In return, I gave him one of my rice balls from my lunch, and agreed to help him with his history assignment. Apparently, without his pencil, Roxas had ended up with a low _B_. His kindness to a complete stranger planted a small bud inside my heart.

He first uttered that sentence on my **twelfth** birthday. Instead of going to a well-anticipated struggle tournament, Roxas had shown up on my doorstep, wishing me a happy birthday, gift in hand. If I let myself, I could have cried at the time. When I asked him - instead of going to something he'd be waiting weeks for, why did he decide to spend the day celebrating with me? - He replied with _"You're my best friend, Namine." _Like the answer was plain as day.

When we were **thirteen**, Roxas treated me to my first stick of sea salt ice cream. The first of many. Every other day, we could be seen sitting together, enjoying our ice cream. At the beach, in the city, at each others houses...it didn't matter. Even after the taste became familiar to me like the mattress of my bed felt after a long day, I still got a little jolt whenever he handed me the sticky treat.

Once my **fourteenth **birthday had rolled by, Roxas had obtained the nerdiest glasses imaginable. I was the first to call him _four-eyes_ -- with a smile. Unfortunately, I was also the last. That year, the other students ordained him as 'geek'. And I was pretty much 'geek-in-waiting'. I was too thin, too long, and too pale. While Roxas seemed to inherit his father's acne problem. We held each others hand through the whole ordeal..._metaphorically speaking_.

On my **fifteenth** summer, I realized I was in love with his eyes. Oh, I loved the rest of him too -- but it was his eyes that unknowingly captured my heart. Every time he whipped off those thick glasses to quickly clean them with the hem of his shirt, I soaked in every detail of those blue orbs. Little dreamy sighs, and a whimsical glance. What can I say? --_ I was obsessed_.

Roxas was older than me by a few months, but even at **sixteen**, I was still taller than him. Only by a few inches. But it was enough to give anyone and everyone the impression of _just _friends. I never viewed us as the _will they or won't they?_ couple. If our hands brushed during a movie, neither of us would flinch or blush, or even stammer an apology. It felt normal. I never paid much attention to my feelings. I knew that Roxas wasn't particularly perceptive.

The year we turned **seventeen** seemed to be the start of it all. Roxas' acne faded as abruptly as it had appeared. Over the summer, he hit his major growth spurt. And just before school started, Roxas traded in his glasses for a new pair of contacts. People seemed to notice how his smile was lighthearted and charming. Yet no one said a word about the one thing that hadn't changed -- _his eyes_. I heard girls giggling in the hallways about his hair and his lean body, _but nothing about his azure eyes_.

And of course, _he_ changed as well. Let's start at the first week...welcome to hell.

**One** week went by after he was invited to his first 'real' party. He knew me well enough not to ask if I wanted to come, as I would have declined. He took great joy in recounting who had thrown up in the flower beds, and who had passed out on the front lawn. I tried to act like I was interested, even though the only thing I could concentrate on was the weird pulsing aura surrounding him. He forgot to return my calls after that. _But I didn't say a word. _I didn't want to make myself an obligation.

The **second** week passed -- he made it onto the school's basketball team. It was like once he had a small taste of popularity, he had become addicted. He stopped trying to sneak a rice ball from my bento box (even though I had always made an extra one just for him). He declined my offer to help him with his English composition...even though we _both_ knew he couldn't write a poem worth a damn. _"I'll try to do it by myself, this time."_

Week **three**...he was invited to hang out with some guys after school. The next school day, he didn't show up at our usual eating spot during lunch. Worst of it; he didn't say a word about it when we walked home together. Sure, he chatted about the usual things. School, basketball, homework... basketball again. I wanted to ask him -- _What do I do to keep you here? _But the words merely bubbled against my lips, and the weak smile remained. _"I'll always be here for you." _I thought to myself.

On the** fourth** week...he decided to take up someone's offer on a ride home. He politely invited me along, but I refused. I couldn't bear to see his friend's faces when he showed up with _me_ by his side. Walking home, I heard the thumping bass of the car he rode in, and spotted the flash of his blond hair flying by. I felt for the first time what it's like to have your heart punctured. Your feelings leak out slowly, gathering into a pitiful pile on the ground._ I bandaged it the best I could._

By the **fifth** week, he had stopped asking me to come with him. We had made a silent agreement that he would get a ride home; I would walk, and we wouldn't talk about it. The only times I talked with him by now were when he stopped by my locker before my second class, and anytime I spotted him..._outside_ of school. He acted fairly normal when his mom invited me over for an after-school snack. The few inches speared between us felt like two miles of separation. _"I'm still here." -- _Though I noticed, with some dismay, how painful it was to be around him.

So came the** sixth** week. I had begun inadvertently avoiding him in the hallways. I couldn't stand to see how he acted with those friends of his. Laughed with them. _Lived _with them. It was like he had turned into the very kind of person he had been teased by in his younger years. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to _hit _ him. Anything to remind him that I existed. But when I thought about it -- _I wondered if he could even see me anymore._

When the **seventh** week came, something else managed to shift. One day, we locked eyes in the hallway. He lifted his hand up in a half-wave, and I smiled back, surprised. But we both caught the '_are you crazy?' _look from a girl standing next to him. Then she turned away. I continued walking towards him, but with a guilty glance in my direction, he followed her down the hall. He never waved again. _He stopped acknowledging me altogether.  
_

The **eighth** week. A girl took one look at me. _"Hey. Where did you get the sweater?"_ she sneered. And Roxas laughed. He actually, honest to god,_ snickered_ at my shocked expression. I clamped my jaw tightly, willing myself not to cry. I momentarily wished that his eyes had bleached into grey -- anything so I wouldn't see the eyes I loved spitting cruel words into my soul. I turned and ran; and didn't see how his confident smile wobbled on his face.

Week **nine**. I felt more betrayed than ever before. I felt like he had taken our friendship, and crushed it under his shoe. I walked home quickly, propelled by my own cold fury. I hated him. _Hated him._ I wanted to make him feel just as lonely and alone as I did. _But how? _I wasn't naturally cruel. I didn't want to publicly exploit him, or something. I just needed to get under his skin. _Just a little. _

Week number** ten**. I had a plan. But it would never work from where I was on the social ladder. I needed to climb. Do anything to get to the top..._rung by rung_. I emptied my wallet, buying clothes I never would wear. I treated myself to a new '_fashionable'_ haircut. I poured over magazines, figuring out how to apply my makeup 'properly'. And hated every moment of it. But how else could I prove that the exterior was only the price of the package? _Frankly, the entire deal seemed like a big rip-off._

Once week **eleven** finally appeared, I put my plan into action. On Monday, every single jaw dropped when they saw me. I wasn't even sure if they knew who I was (for some reason, I doubted they recognized me). I played up to the girl's who were more well liked. I was soon accepted into a _bizarre_ version of reality. I was glad Roxas was away at a basketball tournament -- I didn't want to confront him until I had my position with the In Crowd set in stone. I was shining, like a polished diamond. But I knew every smile and laugh that passed my lips were as fake as the lies they whispered.

Finally. Week** twelve**. I flirted with a few guys before the morning bell, assuring that I would be surrounded by people when Roxas saw me. I positioned myself where he could clearly see me when he entered the cafeteria. I sat myself in his seat, smiling and giggling as I conversed with a brunette. I saw _him_ out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were fastened on me. He weaved through the people, coming to a stop beside me._ "Namine?" _The first time he had spoken my name in months. Anger washed through me once again. I flipped my hair, meeting his eyes with a certain coldness. _"Do I know you?"_

Week** thirteen**. Thirteen was supposedly a unlucky number -- but not for me. Roxas continuously talked to me, trying to catch my attention. Every time he even looked my way, I immersed myself with someone else. And he knew. It _finally _dawned on him after a few days; me ignoring his cheerful wave and smile when we passed in the hallway, and letting myself indulge in seeing the pain register on his face. Who did he think he _was_? Trying to befriend me...once people began to like me? _Though I suppose 'like' wasn't quite the correct term._

**Fourteen.** I was lost in my own plan. I felt miserable with my so-called friends, and it was almost painful ignoring Roxas. I was no longer being left behind...but I hadn't exactly_ caught up,_ either. I tried to put it behind myself...this is what I wanted..._wasn't it? _Roxas was constantly calling me. He yearned for my attention, or so I hoped. Even though I had everything I wanted, saying I was miserable was a pretty big _understatement._

The next week ticked by slowly. On the **fifteenth** week, a girl named Kairi came over to my house. She talked, and I listened. When I excused myself to grab us some snacks, she stayed in my room, continuing to chuckle to herself. When I came back, Kairi was busying herself with her bag, her face oddly flushed. _"Wow, look at the time! I have dance class in twenty minutes. Talk to you later!"_ She was out of my room and on the sidewalk in less than two minutes. I shrugged, putting the photo album laying on the bottom of my bed into its' spot on the shelf.

By the **sixteenth **week, I had gotten six invitations to the Winter Ball. I always redirected them to whichever girl had been complaining about the lack of suitors during the morning. Kairi came up to me, asking what my deal was with Roxas. _"Why do you hate him so much?" _I couldn't bring myself to answer. Shrugging, I looked down at my messy nails. _"I don't hate him." _She looked skeptic, and I couldn't blame her. _"We just grew up."_

Everything changed on week **seventeen**. I noticed the shift just prior to lunch. There was a large group of people gathered around a section of lockers. I subconsciously knew it was Roxas'. Fighting my way to the front of the crowd, my eyes widened. Plastered on his locker from top to bottom were..._fliers?_ Big bold letters. Black and white insults. Cropped pictures of the 'old' Roxas...his ugly glasses. The terrible acne scars. Every single guy and girl were jeering loudly at Roxas, who was staring mutely at his defaced locker. _Where did they even get those?_ My eyes flew from face to face, until I sought out Kairi. She had taken them out of my album. How she knew I had them, I didn't know. _That bitch._

After a long five days of detention (week **eighteen** already?) -- I had managed to avoid both Roxas _and _Kairi. I knew I had blown my cover. Somehow flinging yourself, fists out, at a popular girl doesn't exactly render you high on the list. Not that I actually had intended on hurting her. I just wanted to give her a little something to think about. Imagine the shock in her eyes...which was reflected in my own, when Roxas stepped between us. I considered hitting him too. _Didn't he realize what she had done?_ I shoved his arm off me, backing up, trying to melt into the crowd. _Apparently not quick enough._

**Nineteen** long weeks had passed since the start of it all. Roxas' 'protection' of Kairi hadn't been enough to save himself -- ever since the fliers had been passed around, his reputation had plummeted. Even past mine - the psychotic girl who apparently tried to _throttle_ Kairi's neck. So I wasn't the only one skirting around Roxas. I had caught his eye a few times, but always lowered my gaze. He_ knew_ I was the only person who had those pictures. _"He must hate me."_

The** twentieth** week. I didn't know if I could ever feel the same again. Slip into my old self. _Time heals all wounds_ -- but what about the _scars_? The Winter Ball was just as I expected. A dark room, sweaty bodies pressed together, plus a sprinkling of decorations. I escaped into the fresh air of the elementary school's playground, just across from the school. Shoes in hand, I joined a _certain someone_ on the swings. _"I'm sorry."_ We whispered simultaneously, our swings creaking in the dark.

* * *

He wasn't angry. It was like every bit and piece of anger had been stolen from him too. With a little crooked smile, he held out his arms. Any muscles he had developed playing basketball weren't very noticeable, but as he folded his arms around me, and we sank onto our knees on the soggy grass - me somehow ending up curled on his lap - _he felt strong_. Safe._ "Can we stay like this?"_ He whispered into my hair. I nodded. **Always.**

_"What now?" _Pause. _"I don't think they'll miss us, to be honest." _I replied. Roxas' hand lingered on my cheek, turning my head towards him. I shook my head, trying to ignore the magnetic pull. His lips brushed against the corner of my mouth -- almost as if he was waiting for me to pull away. I stayed completely still, not daring to breathe. But maybe I should have...because when his lips pressed full-on against mine, the air rushed out of me in one, giving Roxas a reason to chuckle against my lips. I was floating.

I felt **infinite**.

_"What about Kairi?" _I muttered against soft skin. _"What about her?" _ Confusion flashed across his young face. _"Don't you know what she did to you?"_ I prodded. Instead of the expected shock or surprise, he grinned._ "Well, she only did what I told her to do."_ (This time, _I _was the one who was confused.)

_"Namine..."_ Roxas chuckled softly. _"...Kairi is my cousin__."_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Muahaha! I think that ending even surprised myself. Who knew? Roxas actually planned his own downfall...though it's a win-win situation, I suppose. He gets out of his horrid popular lifestyle (apparently he hated it as much as Namine) AND gets the girl.

Lucky bastard.

Anyway. Looks like their pumpkin-rot of a relationship was baked a into a lovely pumpkin pie :) pass the forks around! Show how much you want to devour these two, and tell me what you think in a review!

Oh, right.

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS! :D **

By the way -- Kiome-Yasha so kindly made a cover for my story 'Tainted Ocean'. It's gorgeous, so please take a look!...And check her out, as well :) She has some amazing stories.  
(Link on my profile, under Updates!)


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